Tempestuous
by North of the North
Summary: He'd known, of course, that when he found his Mate that his control might slip, but he'd felt confident in his ability, even if his parents both just smiled and sadly shook their heads when he assured them of this. As such, his reaction when he first sensed his Mate nearby took him, and everyone else in the Great Hall, completely by surprise.
1. Chapter 1

Tempestuous

Summary of my idea for this: HP Veela Draco fanfic with Harry as another creature. Veela in this are a bit more like some mythology I've read with beautiful bird-to human shapeshifters I've read about before that can control storms. Draco's power runs amok and triggers Harry's. Draco and Harry are both left confused when Draco's instincts make him feel that the storm will endanger Harry in the Great Hall, and his Creature magic shut both of their instincts down whenever they come near each other leading to more complications when trying to find each other.

Alternate idea: Harry's creature blood is that of something that can control the weather and when they come close to each other in the Great Hall, Harry's are the powers that go out of whack and cause the rainstorm and Draco's instincts cause him to try even more to find his Mate and protect them in that now dangerous environment, and causes him to show that he has Creature blood, which while not seen as bad in the eyes of Purebloods due to the bringing in of magical blood leading to increased magical powers leading to enhanced social status, it does bring about taunting from non-Purebloods, and even a bit of violence.

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"Time is sometimes marked in seasons, and seasons are associated with the weather."

Over time, to be more specific, over the course of one summer the year he became of Age as determined by his Creature blood, Draco learned to control how his emotions now manipulated the heavens, and had gotten it mostly under control so that it did not happen unwillingly on his part.

He'd known, of course, that when he found his Mate that this control might slip, but he'd felt confident in his ability, even if his parents both just smiled and sadly shook their heads when he assured them of this.

As such, his reaction when he first sensed his Mate nearby took him, and the rest of those in the Great Hall that first day back completely by surprise when the monstrous rainstorm so abruptly broke out above everyone.

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 **Are you guys interested in this version or should I try the other version? Suggestions?**

 **Hugs and wuvs,**

 **North of the North**

 **P.S. To the Reviewer concerned about my translation stories:**

 **I don't find you pointing it out bad or anything at all! I had been worried about it too at first, but I have emailed the support email for permission with no reply back, and it does just say that copies of stories are not allowed to be made, and I do know that there are translations of quite a few of the stories on this site that are up and have been for years so I'm not too terribly worried about it.**

 **If nothing else, I work on my laptop now and have a master list copy of my stuff so if I do have to leave then I have explained that I am starting to put stuff up on A03 and I also emailed them and they did reply back that translations are fine, especially as I am doing translations of my own stories and that I just need to ask for permission if I want to try translating other people's stories (which I am so not confident enough to do, or good enough at writing in other languages to do lol).**

 **Thanks for the concern though sweets!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chpt 2, written 14 Dec 2018, typed 15 May 2020, uploaded 17 May 2020**

 **Yeah, I'm really late in getting this one out. Chpt 3 is written down, still need to type up. But chpt 4 at least is all typed up already so chpt 3 at least should be out soon now that I'm actually focused on this story.**

 **Hope you're all doing well!**

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*Harry James Potter's POV* Set before chpt 1*

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Mr. Harry James Potter of number four Privet Drive was proud to say that he was perfectly normal…well, for a young wizard, that was…and the only problem with this viewpoint was that the rest of the wizarding world had disagreed with him on that point since before he even knew about the wizarding world. Or, truthfully, before they even knew anything of actual fact about him. And all they'd known was that he'd somehow become the only person to survive the killing curse, and as a baby at that. However, even he had to change this opinion about himself upon his 16th birthday. That was, of course, when something so completely unordinary happened that even he, unobservant as he normally was, could not ignore it.

And while his home life may not have been perfectly ordinary, what with the emotional and physical abuse, he really did try to convince himself that it at least somewhat was. And even though his life in the wizarding world was also very unordinary even in comparison to other extraordinary humans, he would like to believe that he could still be considered normal, even if he was the only one to think that. After all, he had never wanted to be a freak. And maybe it was just the home life he'd been raised in where normal meant perfect, and to be un-normal was to be punished, but to be normal was all he'd ever wanted. So, Harry did his best to fit in as much as he could, where he was, in the wizarding or in the muggle world. And one of those ways in which he tried to be as normal as possible was by celebrating his birthday. Everyone he knew always celebrated their birthday, and even though the Dursley's may shut him in his room, hit him, or otherwise spend his birthdays doing anything but celebrate them with him, he could still at least celebrate them by himself.

And that was what Harry was currently doing. Staying up, and watching the clock tick down to his birthday, just as he'd done ever since he realized birthdays were normally celebrated by people back when he first started primary school, and realized that not only was his name not Freak, but that he was apparently weird in addition to being freakish because he didn't even know his own birthdate (Aunt Petunia at least had been nice enough to tell him his birthdate, then had slapped him for disturbing her a few days after Thomas in his first year of primary public school had asked him when he'd be celebrating his birthday, as that had been his birthday and the class had all sung happy birthday to him and everyone in class had gone around telling their birthday, except for Harry who hadn't known when his was). At least that was one thing he could have control over by learning enough to be normal, so this tradition was very important for him. It had also come in handy on his eleventh birthday when his staying up late had meant he'd been able to see all of his friend Hagrid's entrance into his life, and with that, his entrance into the wizarding world. Which had been one of the best birthday presents he'd ever received, to be able to go somewhere where he wasn't reminded every single day of how non-normal he was. At least in the wizarding world he was normal enough to have a name, even if he was rather not-normal to have so many people know it before he introduced himself to them. When he'd first started going to primary school in the muggle world, he had felt hurt, sad, and decidedly exactly like the Freak that his relatives had decided he was as far back as he could remember and which he'd swiftly deduced that first day in school was an insult and **not** normal for him to think his name to be when roll call had been done and he'd been shocked to hear that he had a different name: Harry James Potter. And, knowing how his relatives plainly told him they absolutely loathed, despised, and hated him…it wasn't hard to figure out "freak" was not a name anyone should have, and that had only been confirmed when he'd asked the teacher during break time what the meaning of the word freak was. It had been mortifying to hear the whispers and giggles when the teacher had to use process of elimination when he hadn't responded to that name and had been the only one who hadn't responded to any name by the time she'd finished roll call. Thankfully she just thought he hadn't understood her instructions to say "here" or raise his hand or nod when she'd told them what to do during roll call, and he'd been quick to simply nod his head when she'd told him it was okay to be shy, and to try tomorrow to respond while she was still getting used to remembering everyone's names. After all, it would have just made him stand out more if he'd told her she'd said the wrong name, especially when he realized how the Dursley's had confused him after finding out what the actual meaning of the word Freak was, and that she had said the right name for him.

It was just a few minutes to midnight, and Harry was thankful that he hadn't been kept up doing chores late enough he wouldn't have the energy to stay up. While he was jealous of the birthday wishes and recognition he'd seen others have on their birthday, he jealously guarded his time celebrating for himself, and at least this year he wasn't dead tired enough to be near-unable to celebrate like he had been on his tenth birthday. His ears still remembered the ringing they'd experienced when he'd asked Aunt Petunia at 9 pm then if he could just finish his chores the next day and go to bed early, and she'd shrieked then scurried to go fetch Uncle Vernon. Harry shuddered under his thin patchy blanket in remembrance of the blossoming rage that always promised pain and lots of it that had furiously overtaken Uncle Vernon's face. His cheek ghosted a remembrance of the ache it had felt when Uncle Vernon had decided to, literally, "knock him down a peg or two from the high pedestal of importance he thought he had" that he could be so ungrateful as to not finish his chores that day, and to give him some "encouragement" to not be so lazy ever again.

So, this year, Harry was "grateful" that he'd finished his so-called duties in time to at least be able to wish himself a happy birthday. That tenth birthday had gone without any celebration. This time though, he'd be able to wish himself a happy 16th birthday as he'd managed to finish all his chores 27 minutes ago.

He was finally close, so close, to being able to leave this depressing pain-filled prison. So close. Nearly just one more year to go. Just 365 more days to cross off.

The clock was on its last ticks to midnight. Harry focused, and set to counting down the last 10 seconds. 10…9….8….7….6…5…4….

Harry took a deep breath and visualized blowing out a candle.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he whispered, and tried to cuddle as much as he could with his old blanket and fraying, falling apart bed.

Barely three hours later, he jolted up with a gasp as the pain he'd felt from taking the Cruciatus curse seemed to hit him once again, only different in a way. Almost as if his magic was the one turning against him, rather than trying to protect him. It was like it had wrapped around him, and was coursing through his veins like venom making him feel on fire, and crushed, every part of him feeling like it was wrapped in a constricting blanket of his magic. He couldn't breathe. His vision, limited already bathed in just the dim light from his barred window, whited out, then filled with bright sparks, then darkened at the edges. Harry tried to gasp in another breath, still couldn't, and somehow his lungs could feel like they were burning even more than before as he truly needed oxygen now. Suddenly, the crushing feeling was gone, his ribs and skin no longer felt like they were being squeezed, the pain was all gone but for the ghost of it still lingering, and he could breathe.

He took in a few breaths, forcing himself to calm down quickly in the same manner he'd taught himself when he'd first learned early on that he was not, under any circumstances, allowed to cry in the Dursley home. It made Vernon mad that he would be so self-absorbed to cry, and Aunt Petunia hated it too. She thought he was just trying to manipulate them by making them feel guilty when he deserved to be treated as he was. So, crying anywhere he could be seen, and crying in a way that anyone might hear him while he was away from their sight (or from Dudley who would go tell) in his cupboard or in Dudley's second bedroom that he was allowed to sleep in now was punished immediately in a way that ensured he "had something to cry about" even if that manner of "correction" was what had started tears in the first place. Then again, Vernon never passed up a chance to play around with his own personal punching bag, nor to teach Dudley how to truly "get in some good punches" either.

In just a few seconds, he was left with just a slightly faster than normal heartbeat, cooling sweat across his body sticking his sheet/blanket to himself, and that he noticed he'd started shivering as the room (normally always at least a bit cold) made itself known to his awareness again as the last reminders of what he'd just experienced faded away and he was left wondering if he'd just thought up all that pain.

Tomorrow's work though was going to come whether he was tired from not sleeping or not, so he just awkwardly whispered to himself, "Happy birthday, Harry" and cuddled up underneath his sheet/blanket and the little threadbare throw blanket he'd rescued from a trashbin to give himself a bit more to cover up with at night besides his sheet. Hopefully his cold sweat would dry soon and he might gain back a little more warmth through the night….

It was too cold to go jot down a note to remind himself of this happening, (that would require getting out of bed, and he was simply too tired for that) and spared a brief thought to hoping he'd remember to ask Hermione if her doctor aunt might know what might have happened to him. As far as he knew, people his age didn't get heart attacks, or whatever else that might have been. Maybe she'd think of a few explanations though next time he was able to get Hedwig out and off with a letter. Hermione had an interest in becoming a muggle doctor like her uncle, and her parents had made sure she was able to stay caught up and tested on her muggle schooling, so maybe she'd learned something there? Those thoughts went through his head fast, and sleep pulled him under. Only for Aunt Petunia do drag him back up into the waking world five hours later, and shoved into his day with a list of chores to do, including household work for all of Aunt Petunia's friends in the neighbourhood while Aunt Petunia had a backyard get together that afternoon. Faced with near fourteen times his normal chore amount (which was already ludicrous), Harry forgot to remember well, to remember and the strange happenings of his birthday never ended up being sent out in a letter to his friend.

Despite even his more normal part of his life already being very not normal compared to most normal young male children his age, he continued to try and pretend to himself that he was normal and not normal things didn't happen to him.

So, as summer ended and he stepped onto the platform of 9 and ¾ and spotted the Malfoy's seeing off their son as he stepped onto the train, he scowled at the strange déjà vu he had as he felt a band tighten around his chest, restricting his breathing as his head also spun until Draco Malfoy was out of sight. As far as Harry was concerned, that was not normal, but easily explainable with the idea that he was so angry at the sight of Draco Malfoy that his emotions got the better of him there, and he ignored how he'd felt a sense of déjà vu.

That was when Hermione came out of the brick wall leading onto the Hogwarts train platform, and flung herself at him in a flying hug with a cry of, "Harry!" And Harry got caught up in the whirlwind of questions and catching up. The bars had gone back onto his window this year, so while he'd seen their owls, he hadn't been able to reply to them with Hedwig, and his friends knew not to send him letters in the daytime. So all he'd been able to do was tell the birds he was sorry and to head back, and slot a few owl treats through the bars for them for their trouble. So, though he noticed that the train smelled unusually **very** good this year, like a combination of all of his favourite smells in a way he felt he'd never grow tired of the scent…he didn't mention it. Despite the long train ride, there was simply no time for that kind of idle chatter.

And so the only times when Harry might have somehow found a way to warn himself of what was to come passed by noticed, but never inquired into by Harry James Potter. And so, he was completely and utterly taken by surprise by the events that would transpire when he stepped into the Great Hall and encountered Draco Malfoy there, and their creatures recognized their Mates in each other.

As it was, he walked into the Great Hall, and déjà vu, and the strange sense of finding it hard to breathe even as he continued to take deep breaths struck him by surprise once more. Only this time, he was also consumed in a sense of the deepest feeling of comfort he'd ever felt. Shakily, he took the last few steps he needed to take the closest seat he could at the Griffindor table. It felt like he'd been hit with the biggest sense of "I'm home" that he'd never before realized it was possible to feel. Like he was wrapped in a blanket right when he needed it, and then the longing, and a need to share that comfort and as if that sense of comfort **was** being shared hit him.

Distantly, he heard Hermione and Ron growing more and more frantic. But he couldn't see at this point. He could barely hear them. It was like the sense he had when looking inward at his magic. He was seeing a rope growing thicker and thicker with magic, reminding him a bit of the connecting magic that had come between his and Voldemort's wands in the graveyard in his fourth year, and yet this magic didn't seem like a threat to him at all. No, it felt like such a complete opposite that Harry was completely blown away that he could experience such a feeling.

Then his vision returned, but with the magic stretching from him to **someone** remaining in his sight. And that someone seemed absolutely perfect to him. They both stood from their seats at the same time, and Harry had never felt the connection he did at that moment to his magic ever before, but it seemed as if that magic cord connecting **them** was all-powerful, and the magic was consuming in a way he wanted to dive into even as he thought it should have felt like it was drowning him with the way it flooded into his magical core, filled it fuller than he'd ever felt it before, and grew it somehow. Then, he felt his core link to another core.

He couldn't see it in the way his vision now was focused on **them** but the enchanted ceiling above had gone from a beautiful clear night to show a storm instead. And, for the first time in Hogwarts history, the weather it reflected became what happened inside of Hogwarts Great Hall as lightning bolts made from pure magic started striking from the ceiling, missing all students and striking the tables, banners, and floor.

Students screamed.

Harry took no note of that though as he and his **Mate** leapt to each other across the room, the lightning bolts carrying them, cradling them, and they heedless of the danger it should have posed to them and instead focused solely on their need to be with each other.

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